The Dance
by newyorkace
Summary: She cannot be sure what is real and what is a dream. And the darkness may be more comforting than reality. Post-9x24, Tony/Ziva.


_**A/N: This is a Post-9x24 & Pre-10x01 / TonyxZiva Fic, that I originally posted on Tumblr. It's i**__**nspired by the elevator scene. The position they end in looks like they could be dancing.**_

_**At this moment in time, I am not sure whether or not I will continue you this further than a one-shot, so keep your eyes and ears peeled. **_

_**xox Ashley**_

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_**The Dance**_

It's not a struggle to open her eyes and when she does she finds herself staring at the beautiful streets of Paris. There is cobblestone beneath her feet and a light breeze rustling through her hair. The busy people of this bustling city go about their business unfazed by her presence. But why should they be affected by her being her? In a city of nearly two million, she is all but another speck on these busy streets.

In that moment she realizes she's not moving alongside the never-ending string of people hurrying along the sidewalks; she's not even on the sidewalk. Instead, she is in te middle of the Paris street. Her mind wills herself to move from the dangers of traffic, but her body is super-glued to the stones below like one of Tony's pranks of McGee.

And as she thinks of him, she realizes she's not alone. He is there, mere steps away from her. He is staring her down, his eyes clouded with an emotion she is not familiar with. She thinks she may have seen it before, at some point in their relationship, but it looks all too strange and new for her to recall the memory. She wills her body towards him, to meet him where he stands. This place is too unfamiliar alone.

Paris is a place she has visited many times in her short life, but it has never felt quite so right until she walked these streets with him.

She reaches for him. She isn't sure quite why but something feels off; her head is pounding and the loud sounds of the city are making her dizzy. Instinctively she reaches for him; her arms, her legs, her heart all make the leap toward him.

This time her body lets her go. Almost as if she is floating, she gravitates to him and within fleeting seconds she is in his arms. One strong arm wraps around her waist while the other grasps her hand firmly in his; its taunt yet feather light. Automatically, everything within her responds to him. An overwhelming calm comes over her.

With his she feels safe.

Her silence strikes her as odd, though. There are no jokes or sly comments about her being in his arms. The quiet, contented smile on his face is the only form of communication she gets. Her body starts to move with his and, if she isn't mistaken, she wears they are dancing. They are dancing in the streets of Paris, oblivious to all the people and the dangers that surround them. To what music, she doesn't know. The only melody around them is the voices along the street and even those have faded into the background. Either way, his body and his feet easily find the steps and she is only inclined to follow. It feels natural.

And all too soon he leaves her. His muscular form dissolves in her grasp, and with one last look in his green eyes, the emotion there is all too familiar. It is mirroring the feeling radiating through her own being. It is concern enveloped in a staggering fear. It chills her to the bone causing her to shiver.

An unwelcome darkness overcomes her and one shiver leads to more until the tremors wrack her body. She is cold and she blames this on the loss of his body heat. It's then that she realizes she can still feel him, for real this time. His arm is slung heavily across her waist, almost as if it's dead weight, and his hand is clenching hers in a vice grip.

She wills herself to open her eyes, to fight past the pounding in her head and the blackness. The fog slowly clears and her eyes flutter open; once, twice, and finally they stay open.

The scene around her is unbearable. A strangled scream threatens to erupt from her broken body only to come out as a hushed moan.

She automatically wishes she had welcomed the blackness.

The dark was a dream come true compared to this reality.

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**A/N:** To Be Continued...? Let me know what you think.


End file.
